After Charles left, Audrey glared at Nick in frustration. "Can't you at least be polite to the man who's paying for our European vacation? And are you stupid? Who accuses someone of wrongdoing to their face like that?"
"Relax, I said it on purpose," Nick replied nonchalantly. "I wanted to see how Charles would react and what he'd say."
Though the idea of eating roasted lamb excited him, Nick wasn't only thinking about food when he immediately accepted Charles' dinner invitation. "Haven't you seen the news? There are rumors that William Devonshire is here in Monte Carlo. And when Charles said he went to the casino, it wasn't to gamble—it was to meet William."
"You think he lied to us?" Audrey asked, puzzled. "But couldn't Charles have met William and then gone to the casino to play? Why would he need to tell us about meeting him?"
"Come on, didn't all those detective novels you've read teach you anything?" Nick rolled his eyes. "In my twenty years as a cop, I've found that the real masterminds are often the ones who seem to have nothing to do with the crime."
Audrey pondered for a moment, recalling her novels and Nick's past cases. Seeing her thoughtful expression, Nick smirked and continued, "Think about it—when we first got off the plane a few days ago, Charles immediately took us to Paris to meet William.
"Doesn't that seem like he was using us as a cover?"
"You know, now that you mention it, it does sound suspicious." Audrey nodded in agreement after giving it some thought.
The Spitzer couple had only met Charles a few hours earlier on the plane. While it wasn't unusual to hit it off with someone and be invited to their home, taking new acquaintances to meet a completely unrelated relative was definitely odd.
Noticing Nick's expression, Audrey asked knowingly, "You're planning to get Charles drunk tonight and use the chance to get some answers, aren't you?"
"Exactly. That's why I've been married to you for twelve years—you always know what I'm thinking." Nick leaned in and kissed Audrey on the lips.
"If we want to clear our names and get back to the U.S. sooner, we have to find the real killer ourselves. Otherwise, if this drags on for ten days, or even longer, we'll lose our jobs."
Audrey sighed, torn between fear of danger and the looming pressure of losing their livelihoods. Finally, practicality won out. "Alright, let's do it your way."
Half an hour later, Charles, now dressed in casual clothing, walked the couple to an Arab restaurant near the hotel. He ordered a whole roasted lamb and a few beers.
Thankfully, this was Monte Carlo, and since the three of them clearly weren't Arab, the restaurant didn't hesitate to serve them alcohol.
As soon as the drinks arrived, Nick and Audrey took turns clinking glasses with Charles, looking for excuses to make him drink. However, they severely underestimated his tolerance.
After downing four massive one-liter beers, Charles showed no signs of being affected. His face remained pale, his breath steady. Completely unfazed, he even took off his jacket, loosened three buttons on his shirt, and casually exposed his chest, giving the impression that this was how beer was meant to be drunk.
Meanwhile, both Nick and Audrey, having downed two beers each, were starting to feel tipsy. The two exchanged a helpless glance, silently brainstorming their next move.
Before they could act, a gunshot suddenly rang out from outside the restaurant.
Charles, who had been in the middle of sipping his beer, abruptly collapsed to the floor with a loud thud. Blood gushed from a bullet wound in his chest.
"Ahhh! Ahhh!" Audrey screamed in panic, the sound piercing Nick's ears and making his head buzz.
Luckily, Nick's twenty years as a cop kicked in. Ignoring the noise, he pulled Audrey to the ground, shielding her beneath the table. After observing the room for a few seconds and seeing no sign of the shooter, he cautiously stood up and ran toward the opposite side of the restaurant from where the shot had come.
Reaching one of the stone pillars inside the restaurant, Nick circled it a few times but still couldn't spot the shooter. Frustrated, he rushed back to Charles' side to assess his condition.
"Damn it," Nick muttered as he examined the bullet wound in Charles' chest. The location of the wound—right over the heart—made it clear that even a miracle wouldn't save him.
Just then, the sound of ambulance sirens grew louder, signaling the arrival of emergency responders.
Nick jumped to his feet and ran outside, where he saw an ambulance speeding toward the restaurant. Waving his police badge, he flagged it down and shouted to the driver, "There's a gunshot victim inside—he's been hit in the chest. Hurry up and help him!"
"Damn it, we already have a patient who needs emergency care in the back! Move out of the way!" the driver shouted back.
Audrey, who had followed Nick outside, quickly came up with an idea. She shouted at the paramedics, "Listen, guys! The injured man inside is Charles Cavendish, a Viscount of England and the uncle of William Devonshire.
"Think about it—if you save him, I guarantee William Devonshire, who's here in Monte Carlo, will reward you with $100,000. No, make that $1 million! A million dollars, I swear!"
The promise worked. The two paramedics hesitated for only a moment before pulling a stretcher from the ambulance and rushing into the restaurant. They quickly lifted the unconscious Charles onto the stretcher and loaded him into the vehicle.
Nick tried to climb into the ambulance as well, but the paramedics blocked him. "Look, buddy, the ambulance is already carrying two critical patients. There's no room for you."
Frustrated but understanding, Nick stepped back. As the ambulance sped off, one of the paramedics in the back shouted, "Damn it, it's a penetrating heart wound. Even if we get him to the ER, we'll only have five minutes to save him!"
"F***!" The driver slammed his fist against the dashboard. "To hell with your million dollars! It's over—it'll take at least five minutes to get to the hospital!"
Slamming his hands on the steering wheel, the burly driver yelled back to the paramedics, "Drive faster! For $1 million, I don't care if we hit someone on the way!"
As the ambulance sped off, Nick watched helplessly, still shaken by the near-death situation. He turned to Audrey, who was already in tears. "Well, I guess we were wrong. Charles wasn't the killer."
Audrey glared at him. "Damn it, Nick! How can you think about who the killer is at a time like this?"
Unbeknownst to the Spitzer couple, the moment the ambulance doors closed, Charles' lifeless body sprang to life.
A man in the back of the ambulance quickly retrieved a roll of medical-grade blood-clotting tape from the medical kit and applied it to the bleeding hole in Charles' chest. Then he barked, "Hold him up!"
After securing Charles in a sitting position, the man applied another strip of tape to the exit wound on Charles' back, staunching the flow of blood. Tossing the tape aside, he grabbed a blood extractor, inserted a needle through the taped hole in Charles' chest, and activated the device.
Within seconds, the blood pooling in Charles' chest cavity was drained, stabilizing his chest pressure. Suddenly, the previously lifeless Charles gasped for air, his lungs expanding as he sucked in a deep breath.
"Holy sh**, this guy just came back to life!" one of the paramedics exclaimed.
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Becoming the Wealthiest Tycoon on the Planet (Chapter 1284)
Surgical Fruit in the American Comics Universe (Chapter 1289)
American Detective: From TV Rookie to Seasoned Cop (Chapter 1316)
American TV Writer (Chapter 1402)
I Am Hades, The Supreme GOD of the Underworld! (Chapter 570)
Reborn as Humanity's Emperor Across the Multiverse (Chapter 660)
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